by Luke Duffy
Pictures of beautiful people covered the walls, and he looked from one to the next, scrutinizing each one with his pale, dead eyes. He scanned around the room and his eyes fell upon a picture of a close-up of a man, smiling broadly at him. He was a healthy-looking figure with dark, wavy hair, sparkling teeth, and chocolate brown eyes.
He became confused, his brow furrowed and he moved closer. He stared unblinkingly at the large face. To the right of the picture, he caught a glimpse of movement; he saw the reflection of himself in a large full length mirror. He looked from one image to the other, continuously comparing the moving image of himself in the mirror and the smiling picture on the wall and then, the comprehension hit and his brow rose in surprised recognition as he let out a questioning murmur.
The large, smiling image was him. Andy Moorcroft was in his own shop where he had run his modeling business. The reception desk, the trendy leather sofas in the lounge area, the heaps of portfolios and the camera equipment that lay about were all his. He glanced from one item to the next, shuffling on his unstable feet as faint and distant distorted memories flashed before him, causing him to shuffle in circles as he tried to reach out for the visions.
He approached the mirror and brought his hand up to touch the cold skin of his face and the hair on his head. Locks fell away in his fingers and he groaned as he tried to place them back into his scalp. He looked up, moaning sorrowfully at the image that had once been him, and a feeling of what could only be interpreted as sorrow passed over him. It dawned on him that he would never be that man again.
Still staring at the picture, he staggered back until he hit a low, stylish leather couch. His knees buckled when they made contact with the hard surface, causing him to sit down. On the seat next to him was a camera. Its black surface with its long lens and silver buttons and switches were vaguely familiar to him and he turned it in his hands. He studied it from different angles, before he finally and clumsily lifted the view finder to his eye. He glanced around the shop, pausing as the pictures came into sight.
Slowly, he lowered the camera again and it fell from his grasp and clattered and smashed against the floor. His eyes stared at his pale, bloodless, and wrinkled hands and then back up at the picture of him hanging from the wall as he let out a muffled, despondent moan that sounded more like a quiet sigh.
He slumped down into the soft cushions and sat staring for hours as the walking dead of the city shambled by in the street beyond the window.
22
“Jake, can you hear me?” Steve pulled the radio away from his mouth and tilted it toward his ear. There was no reply.
Lee slowly rolled the vehicle toward the junction that led onto the main approach to the Safari Park. Steve signalled with his hand to slow even further as he waited for a reply from Jake. He didn't want to draw any closer until he knew how the situation looked outside the entrance to the park.
They had been gone for nearly ten hours and they were keen to get back to safety, but Steve didn't want to rush in and he insisted on making sure that the coast was clear, and if it wasn’t then he wanted to know what they faced.
He keyed the radio again. “Jake,” there was urgency in his voice. “Can you hear me? We’re on our way back.”
A moment of silence, then a crackle of static as the radio squawked. “Yes, Steve, I can hear you. Where are you?”
“We’re at the top of the main road leading to the gate. How does it look, are there any infected around?”
“Yeah, more than this morning actually,” Jake replied. “What do you want to do?”
Steve bit his lip and hummed, “We’ll have to try and draw them away mate, then make a break for the gate. Same drill as this morning, only in reverse. Have a few people ready to deal with any that get in and open the gate when I give you the word.”
“Will do, Steve. I’ll let you know when we’re in position.”
Steve turned and looked at Lee and then to the rest of the group. Gary sat with his hands in his lap and stared at the floor while Roy continued to gaze into space out the window, nursing his shoulder and whimpering and mumbling to himself.
Only Claire looked like she was alert and ready to deal with whatever trouble lay ahead.
Five minutes later, Jake called to say that they were ready.
“Okay, Lee, take us down to the gate. As soon as they start to follow, back up slowly and draw them away. Once we’re about a hundred metres from the entrance, put your foot down and we’ll get in without any of them following us, hopefully.” Steve didn't look wholly convinced when he said it and he looked at Lee with a dubious expression.
Lee nodded. His eyes doubtful and tinged with fear, but as Steve knew he would, he did as he was asked and began to edge his way toward the dark entranceway, overhung by large trees and cast in shadow.
The dead at the gate saw them as they approached and turned their attention in the direction of the rumbling vehicle as it came to a halt just twenty metres away from them. The grey, emaciated, and slowly rotting faces of men, women and children gazed at the car and the people within. Their arms outstretched and their moans were audible over the sound of the engine before they were even fifteen metres away.
They staggered and shuffled at different paces and Steve had to place a hand on Lee’s shoulder to steady him and stop him from reversing too early. They had to let the whole crowd gather and be sure that they had their complete attention, leaving none behind to push through the gate once it was opened.
They lurched toward them, their injuries and abominable appearances becoming apparent in the light of the day as they left the shade of the trees. They limped and hobbled, staggered and shuffled. Some were smeared in dried blood and others had limbs hanging loose, held on by threads of sinew or missing altogether. Clouds of buzzing flies circled them, unnoticed by the dead. Their skin was blackened in places, and puss-filled blisters bubbled from underneath as their bodies broke down from the inside out.
They crowded the car and pressed their faces against the windows. The people inside kept their eyes focused anywhere else other than into the haunting, dead eyes all around them.
There was a loud crack from the rear left hand window behind Steve, and Claire let out a startled yelp. Steve spun in his seat and saw that the glass had been splintered and was ready to crash inward. He caught a glimpse of a pair of hands brandishing a piece of broken masonry.
“Shit! The window is gonna go, back up, back up, Lee!” Steve shouted in terror.
Claire was leaning across the back seat and pushing up against Gary, who remained silent and inactive, to try and put as much distance between her and the window as possible. Another blow hit the glass, shattering it and showering Claire with small pellets of safety glass as a set of ashen hands were thrust inside. They clutched at the air in an attempt to grasp her and pull her through the gaping window and into the pack of waiting corpses on the other side.
Lee increased speed and the grasping arms clanged against the side of the door frame before disappearing back through the window as the car pulled away from the advancing dead mob.
They were far enough away from the park entrance.
“Okay, Jake, open the gate,” Steve shouted into the radio.
Lee slammed the car back into first gear, and the bumper soon came into contact dead legs as they bounced over the front of the car and to the side, leaving bloody smears as their heads hit forcefully.
Bodies were slammed to the side as Lee ploughed through them and towards the gateway. The gate was only a few metres away when it began to close again, missing the side of the car by inches as it raced through and slamming shut just seconds after they passed on to the other side. Jake had timed it perfectly.
The dead were too slow, and by the time they reached the gate, the car was out of sight. They were left behind, hopelessly clawing at the air as they thrust their filthy, skeletal hands through the bars.
Back at the mansion, a crowd of people thronged toward the car to meet them
as they pulled up. Helen and Jennifer were there, as well as Karen, Gary’s wife.
Claire searched frantically with her eyes, looking for Sarah, and was out of the car before it had even come to a complete halt, calling for her. She wanted nothing in the world more than to see the beaming smile of her little girl and hold her tightly and tell her how much she loved her.
She wasn’t there.
Steve climbed out. “Where's Sarah, Jen?”
Helen approached him, looking grave. “Steve, she's sick. It came on her after you left this morning and she's steadily gotten worse.” She looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze, “I think it’s the flu, Steve.”
His knees became weak and he stifled a whimper as he felt fear rise in his chest. The colour drained from his face and he stepped closer to Helen, gripping her by the shoulders and pulling her close.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“She,” Helen struggled with her words, “she's upstairs in her bed. Sophie is with her.”
Steve pushed past her and through the doors to the mansion, closely followed by Claire. He sprinted up the stairs, bounding two steps at a time, and burst into the room where Sarah lay, silent and pale with sweat soaking her hair and clothing.
Sophie looked up, startled as Steve entered. “She's been asleep for a few hours, Steve. I tried to give her some soup but all she could manage was a glass of water.” She looked at the still form on the bed and back to Steve. “I’ll leave you two alone with her, but I’ll be outside if you need me.”
Steve just nodded in acknowledgement without taking his eyes from his daughter as Sophie walked past him. Claire tried to appear appreciative with a brief smile, “Thank you,” she said and the door closed behind her as the young girl left the room.
Sarah looked peaceful and didn't show any signs of discomfort, and both Steve and Claire began hoping, in optimism that is typical of a parent as they suppress their worst fears when faced with such a thing, that it was just one of the many illnesses that can easily be picked up and not necessarily the deadly strain of flu.
They sat in silence and watched her sleep. Her face was pale and clammy, and dark rings had formed around her eyes, making them appear sunken. Neither of them had anything to say to each other and neither had a desire to speak. They just sat and stared at the limp figure of their daughter, wrapped in the sheets, and willed her to be okay.
A short while later there was a knock at the door. It was Jake, and Steve reluctantly left the room, leaving Claire and Sophie to watch over Sarah.
“Steve, I know you're worried and you want to be there for your daughter, but there's nothing you can do and she is in good hands with her Mum and Sophie, and Helen will do all she can. You know she will.” Jake was almost pleading with him. “But we need you downstairs. Gary is catatonic, he's not spoken a word or moved from the couch since we carried him in, and that other bloke, well, he's been bitten on the shoulder.”
Steve nodded gravely in agreement with his previous statement, and went on to answer his second. “Yeah, his name is Roy, and it’s ‘cause of that fucking oxygen thief that Kev is dead.” He said it with unreserved venom in his voice and stared into the distance as he spoke, remembering the geyser of blood and the squeals as Kevin had his throat ripped out.
Jake looked down at the floor and nodded. “I’d assumed that Kev hadn't made it when I noticed he wasn’t in the car. I take it that Gary saw it happen too? I know they were close. Who is the other guy, the one who was driving?”
“Yeah, he saw the whole thing, and so did I.” He looked Jake square in the eye. Tears were forming and he felt his heart pang at the memory. “The driver is Lee; an old friend of mine actually.” He took a step toward the stairs and turned, “Thanks for your help today, Jake. C’mon, we better go and see to this mess then.”
They walked into the lobby of the mansion, a gaggle of people stood and watched as they entered, glancing from Steve and then to Roy, who was lying on one of the large sofas, still not speaking. Gary sat at the table, the chess board in front of him, and Karen sat waiting for him at his side, her hand across his broad back and gently rubbing him between the shoulder blades.
Stephanie approached Steve with her weasel-like husband hot on her heels. She already had her ample chest puffed out and her sternest looking face, which she always used to intimidate others.
“That man has been bitten,” she said in a booming, almost masculine and unmistakably authoritarian voice as she pointed to Roy. “He can’t stay here. He will turn into one of them and...”
Steve held up a hand and spoke over her, “Listen to me you bag of shit,” he leaned toward her, speaking through gritted teeth. “You did fuck all to help us today. You didn't step a foot outside this building, so until you have earned your place here, you need to walk on egg shells, or you won’t be staying here either.”
Her eyes bulged and her jaw fell open as her tongue lolled about inside her mouth like a swollen slug, trying to form words. “You, you can’t speak to me like that, I'm the senior staff member here.” She was trying to claw back the ground she had lost by using her position at the park as leverage.
Steve stepped toward her, his eyes flaring with rage. Their faces were just inches apart and he growled as he spoke. “You are nothing here, Stephanie, nothing but an overly vocal bully. The world has changed and you had better hurry up and realise that. You have no authority in this place and you're not the most popular either. So, be careful or you could find yourself as a living buffet for those puss brains out there.”
He turned to Jason, who stood in silence, cowering in the large shadow cast by his wife. “And you, you fucking rat, you get in my way or cause any problems for me and mine, and I’ll feed half of you to the lions and the other half to your bloated wife after she has turned. Okay?”
Without waiting for a reply, Steve stepped away and walked toward the rest of the group leaving Stephanie and Jason stunned. Jake was in shock and it took a moment for him to recover before trotting after him and falling into step beside him as he headed for the centre of the room.
“Jesus, Steve, did you mean all that?”
Steve stopped and turned to face him. “She needs to be knocked down a few pegs, Jake. Given half the chance, that fat butter mountain would run this place like Auschwitz. There is trouble coming from her, mark my words. And the moment I see her as a threat to me, Sarah, or anyone else in the group, I’ll do what I have to in order to protect them. I meant what I said to her. The world has changed, Jake, and we all have to earn our place in it and I’ll dispose of anyone I see as a threat to me and mine.”
Jake smiled. “Hey, I agree one hundred percent with you, Steve. I only asked because I wondered how you would lift the fat bitch over the gate and I was gonna offer to help.”
Steve had to hide his grin from the others. Despite the predicament he was in with his daughter sick, Roy being infected, and Gary in a state of shock and grief that he may never pull out of, Jake had made him smile, and he was grateful.
Helen was tending to the wound on Roy’s shoulder. He sat in silence, chewing at his knuckle. She looked up at Steve and Jake as they approached and nodded as she finished off the last bandage.
Lee joined Jake and Steve. “I'm Lee, hope you don’t mind me joining the gang?” he said as he shook hands with Jake.
“Of course not,” Jake said in a hushed tone. “There's plenty of room and the more help we have, the better.”
Helen came over. “I can see the infection already setting in. The wound is turning black around the edges as the skin is dying. His arm is swollen and red because his body is trying to fight it. I've never seen anyone survive though, and I don’t expect to. The only thing I'm not sure of, is how long it will take and what we should do with him in the meantime.”
“We’ll put him in a spare room and keep a guard around the clock on him,” Steve muttered. He wasn’t particularly interested in Roy. He was more concerned for Gary. “What about him?” He
indicated his friend to Helen with a nod of his head.
“I can’t tell,” she sighed. “I'm not a psychiatric nurse and don’t know where to start. I can treat him for shock and stuff, but his state of mind is completely outta my hands. Best I can suggest is that he should have those closest to him around him for support and comfort while he comes to terms with it in his own time.”
Steve met Helen’s eyes, “Thanks, Helen.”
“Steve,” she paused, thinking of the right words. “I’ll do all I can for Sarah. I promise you. I’ll spend every minute of every day with her if need be to nurse her through this.”
Steve nodded his appreciation and watched her as she left, heading for the stairs that led to Sarah’s room.
“Fucking hell, she’d get it,” Lee announced from behind.
Steve had to smile as he shook his head. Some things never change. His appearance had, but Lee was still mentally the young teenager, and he was reminded of all the crazy things that Lee had done during their childhood.
Lee had always said the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times, and could never understand or comprehend what all the fuss was about when the offended people reacted the way they did. To him, his actions and comments were always perfectly acceptable.
Steve saw that side of him as a positive. Even though he had found himself in many a scrape and sticky situation due to Lee and his inability to think before he spoke or acted, he always knew exactly where he stood with him and Lee didn't and couldn’t, pull his punches.
Never shy of taking the fight to the enemy, Lee could never be accused of lacking balls, even when the odds were stacked highly against him. Steve knew that he could count on Lee to stand by his side and watch his back, regardless of the hopelessness of any situation.